


Magic Moose

by lacqueluster (GG_and_MM)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Sabriel - Freeform, Smut Appreciation Day, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:55:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9647087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GG_and_MM/pseuds/lacqueluster
Summary: Sam and Gabriel make an innocent bet. It's a bet Sam knows he's going to win, until he doesn't. Or does he? Who's the real winner in the end?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born from my beta mentioning a scene in a movie (Forces of Nature). It was a completely innocent comment, with a link to watch the scene. As I watched it I knew I HAD to write a Sabriel version. I wrote this in about four hours, and I think it's probably one of my favorite things I've ever written. 
> 
> To my beta: If you planned for this to happen you are a mastermind on a level with Rowena. If you didn't, it still worked out brilliantly, because this was one of the funnest things I've ever written. Thank you for all you do for me!

“How long do you think it’ll take him to notice?”

 

Sam spins toward Gabriel on his barstool, setting his beer down. “What?” No idea what the angel is talking about now.

 

“You know,” Gabriel stirs his drink with a tiny straw, “Dean. How long ‘til he notices this is a gay bar?” 

 

Sam half snorts, a dimple dotting his right cheek. “Whatever. He already knows.” 

 

Gabriel looks down the bar at Dean and Cas, chatting with the bartender. The bar isn’t busy, but it’s not empty either. It’s a mellow Thursday night, early in the evening. He’s convinced Dean doesn’t realize. 

 

“I don’t know, he had beer goggles on when he pulled in here, Sam. All he was thinking about was getting a cold one in his hand. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t.” 

 

“Gabe, he’s seen Wayne’s World a thousand times, he knows that The Tool Box was the gay bar in that movie. Trust me, he put it together.” 

 

Gabriel leans back, sips his drink, thinking. “If you’re so sure then you wanna make it interesting?”

 

Sam cocks an eyebrow at the angel, sipping his beer with that pretty mouth. “Since I know I’ll win, what do you have in mind?”

 

Gabriel glances around the bar, and then a mischievous grin spreads over his face. 

 

“I don’t like that look,” Sam says.

 

“Oh now, you’re the one who  _ knows  _ you’re right. Wha’d’ya got to lose?”

 

Sam sighs and closes his eyes. “Fine. What are we talking here? A month of blow jobs? Me on my knees ev--” A finger on Sam’s lips cuts him off. 

 

“Nonsense, I’d never use a bet to manipulate sex.” 

 

Sam raises his eyebrows at that, not sure if the angel is serious. 

 

“No, my idea is much better,” there’s a glint in his eye when he looks at Sam, “stripping,” he says, looking pleased as punch. 

 

“Stripping.” Sam blinks. “Like, taking our clothes off stripping?” 

 

“Well, no. You’ll be stripping. I’ll be watching, because I’m going to win.” 

 

Classic Sam eye roll at that comment. “You see me strip all the time, Gabriel. What’s the point?” 

 

“Pffft,” Gabriel scoffs, “I don’t see you strip. I see you change clothes, I see you toss them on the floor, I don’t see you remove them sexily to music.” He fans his arm to encompass the room. “And neither have these lovely people.” 

 

Sam’s eyebrows practically jump into his hairline. “You want me to strip in here?” 

 

“Sure, why not? There’s a stage right there that was just  _ made _ for it.” 

 

Sam looks behind him. The stage is dark, obviously not the center of attention tonight. He shakes his head, turning back to Gabriel. 

 

“No one wants to see me strip.”

 

Gabriel looks confused. “Sometimes I’d swear you’ve never looked in a mirror.” 

 

“Shut up,” Sam almost blushes, sipping his beer to relieve how self conscious he is. 

 

“Seriously, everyone in this room would want to see you strip. Cross my heart.” 

 

Sam smiles and shakes his head at Gabriel’s ridiculousness. “Whatever.” 

 

Gabriel knows he’s not getting anywhere close to finalizing the bet. He changes tactics. “You think it’ll bother him when he realizes?” 

 

“What,” Sam asks, “because it’s a gay bar?” 

 

Gabriel nods. 

 

“No, he won’t care. Might throw him for a sec but Dean’s not like that.” 

 

“So you agree, he doesn’t know.” 

 

Sam knows he’s being baited. “He knows.”

 

“But you’re not sure enough to shake on it,” Gabriel nods in understanding. 

 

“Fine,” Sam sticks his hand toward the angel, “if he knows, you strip. If he doesn’t, I do.”

 

Gabriel shakes on that. 

 

“Now, how do we find out?” Sam motions the bartender for two more. “If we ask, he’ll say of course he knew.” 

 

Gabriel nods. “We watch, we wait, and we drink. You’ll need alcohol to get up there, I imagine.” 

 

Sam laughs like Gabriel is a fool. “Yeah, I need alcohol. Because you and your Shirley Temples are having such a great time over there.” 

 

“Hey!” Gabriel acts offended. “These things are delicious I’ll have you know!” 

 

“Yes, and every seven year old little girl in the world agrees with you.” 

 

Gabriel frowns over the rim of his glass. “Watch it, Moose. I’ll give you antlers again.” 

 

Sam is raising his beer bottle when Gabriel says this. He fumbles and it slips in his hand, making him miss his mouth. Beer trickles off his chin. He wipes it away with a napkin, eyes shifting to Gabriel, both nervous and irritated. 

 

“We said we weren’t gonna talk about that again.” 

 

Gabriel raises his Shirley Temple in a salute, a smirk on his face. 

 

Sam and Gabriel pass the time by keeping an eye on Dean. Ten minutes, twenty, a half hour, nothing. He’s just hanging out with Cas, occasionally talking to the flirty bartender, which he seems oblivious to. 

 

Sam eventually loses track of the bet, the alcohol fuzzing his brain just a touch. He smiles, laughing at Gabriel’s jokes, when he feels Dean’s head close to his ear. 

 

“Sammy,” Dean half whispers, “did you know this is a gay bar? The bartender just asked me and Cas for a threesome, and there’s two guys making out in the corner.” 

 

Sam stills, closing his eyes. Gabriel doesn’t say anything, but he heard it all. He looks downright smug when he bites into the cherry from his Shirley Temple. 

 

“Yeah, Dean, I know. The name of the bar is The Tool Box.” 

 

Dean doesn’t seem to register this. 

 

“Wayne’s World?”

 

Realization dawns on Dean’s face. He makes a little “oh” with his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. Then he shrugs, turns, and walks back to Cas. 

 

Sam sips his beer. “Told you he wouldn’t care.” 

 

“Yes, you did. Bravo.” Gabriel motions the bartender to come over. “He’s gonna need some shots. Can you turn the stage lights on from here?” 

 

The bartender stares at Gabriel like he has two heads. 

 

“He lost a bet. You wanna see him strip?”

 

The guy looks at Sam for an instant then back to Gabriel. “I can flip them from back here whenever you’re ready, just let me know.”

 

“Don’t worry, you’ll know.” 

 

Sam rests his face in his hands. “Is there any way I can get out of this?” His stomach rolls. He knows the answer to that question already. 

 

“Really, Sam?” Gabriel asks. “You going back on a bet? I didn’t think you were the type.” 

 

Sam takes a deep, cleansing breath. “No,” he shakes his head earnestly, “no, I’m not going back. Let’s do it.” 

 

“Slow down,” Gabriel sips his drink.    
  


Sam wants to throw the pink concoction at the wall. 

 

“Take a couple shots, knock those nerves out, kiddo. Trust me, it’ll help.” 

 

“If I take a shot I think I’ll puke from nerves,” Sam says, standing. “I’m getting this over with.” 

 

Sam walks to the stage and then freezes. There are tables filling up around it, the bar’s a lot more packed than when they came in. The place isn’t hopping yet, but the energy is on the rise. 

 

He doesn’t want to do this. If he gets on that stage he’ll most definitely puke. He doesn’t like being the center of attention in situations like this. This is not a good idea. 

 

Gabriel is behind him, guiding him toward the side of the stage. Sam plants his feet when they get close. 

 

“Oh my God,” he breathes. 

 

Gabriel’s hands are on Sam’s back, not letting him retreat. “Calm down, it’s not like you’re being graded on this. You don’t have to be good, Sam. You just have to take your clothes off.”

 

“Oh, well when you put it like that,” Sam laughs, a little hysteria in the sound of it. 

 

Gabriel gives him a little shove and Sam bumps the stage. He puts his hands on it and climbs up. 

 

Gabriel hops up behind him, game show host persona fully in place. “Can I have your attention, please?” He calls out in a cheerful voice. 

 

The room slowly quiets, the attention turning to the two men on stage. 

 

“Sammy, what the hell?”

 

Sam hears Dean in the audience but he can’t see him, because just as Dean speaks,  the stage lights flip on. Sam blinks into the light directed at his face, holding up a hand to block it.    
  
Gabriel holds his hands up. “Friends,” he addresses the crowd, “I’ve got a little surprise for you this evening.” 

 

Gabriel turns, walking around Sam, looking him up and down. He makes a show of it, standing directly beside Sam, showcasing the height difference, and then he steps in front again. 

 

“This,” he motions the length of Sam’s body, like he’s a showcase special, “is Sam. Now don’t go getting any ideas, he’s mine, but I’m willing to show him off a little bit tonight.” 

 

The audience cheers a little. 

 

Sam is sweating. It’s drenching his armpits. Why is he wearing so many layers? He’s going to have a heat stroke up here. 

 

“You see,” Gabriel goes on, “Sam and I made a bet.” 

 

“God dammit!” Dean yells. 

 

Gabriel holds a finger up. “Shh, that’s enough, Deano. This doesn’t concern you.” He gives Sam a look over his shoulder. “Well, it did. But it doesn’t anymore.” 

 

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean sounds closer to the stage now. 

 

“Shh,” Gabriel shushes. “As I was saying. Sam here lost a bet. His payment is to strip for you fine folks tonight. Would anyone here like to see that?” 

 

The room explodes in applause, people whooping and whistling. 

 

Sam looks up at the ceiling. He’s going to die of embarrassment. 

 

“That’s what I thought,” Gabriel looks pointedly at Sam. 

 

“Get down from there,” Dean demands from the side of the stage. 

 

“Dean, it’s fine,” Sam wipes his sweaty hands on his thighs. “I’m just going to get it over with and we can leave. Have the car ready, okay.” 

 

“Bullshit, I’m not watching you take your clothes off.” 

 

“Then turn your head,” Gabriel looks pointedly at Dean. “Now have a seat, or I’ll make you.” 

 

“You son of a bitch,” Dean mutters, turning away. 

 

Gabriel turns back to the audience, watching as they all move towards the stage. 

 

“Bartender,” Gabriel calls, “would you be so kind as to provide some music?”

 

Sam steps in close behind the angel, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “You’re gonna pay for this.” 

 

Gabriel cocks his head and smiles. “Why Sam, I know that’s meant to be a threat, but you make it sound so…” he kisses Sam’s chin, “sexy.” 

 

Sam jaw works, his teeth grinding. 

 

Music blares. “Ahhh, Ssss, Push It,” the lyrics start.

 

“Jesus, are you serious?” Sam’s hands land on his hips and he stares down at his feet. “Salt-N-Pepa.” He shakes his head. He hasn’t heard this song since his 20’s. 

 

Gabriel walks behind Sam on the stage, sliding his hands over Sam’s shoulders. “Come on, big boy. Let’s get this show started.” 

 

Sam looks up. That’s all he has to do, look out where the crowd would be if he could see them through the lights, and they scream. 

 

“I’ve got a bucket of holy oil with your name on it, Gabe. You better run when this is over.” 

 

Gabriel laughs to himself. He moves to the front of Sam, looking up into the other man's angry face. Even through the irritation he can see that Sam is finding the humor in this situation. There’s a glint in his eye, smile lines at the corners. 

 

Gabriel tries to unbutton Sam’s top button and Sam smacks his hands away. 

 

Gabriel grins. “Tsk, Tsk, you know the deal here.” 

 

Sam shakes his head, mouth working. He leans down in Gabriel’s face. “I’m going to kill you.” He steps around Gabriel, front and center, and starts to move his hips side to side. 

 

The lyrics start. 

 

_ “Salt and Pepa’s here, and we’re in effect _

_ Want you to push it, babe _

_ Coolin’ by day then at night workin’ up a sweat _

_ C’mon girls, let’s go show the guys that we know” _

 

Sam can’t do it. The crowd is yelling, some of them are saying his name. There’s catcalling going on everywhere. He hasn’t been this self conscious since middle school for shit’s sake. He swallows a lump the size of a softball in his throat.

 

He feels Gabriel’s hands on his shoulders again. The angel slips his hands in the collar of Sam’s jacket, slowing pulling the front open. Sam lets him. The angel slowly tugs it down Sam’s arms, finally pulling it free of Sam’s hands and tossing it out into the crowd. 

 

The place explodes. 

 

“He’s down one layer, folks,” Gabriel cries, “that’s a big deal in this family!” 

 

Gabriel shimmies his way around to Sam’s front again, dancing like a fool. Sam can barely hide his smile. 

 

He moves to unbutton Sam’s top button again and Sam lets him. The angel’s eyes are practically glowing from the stage lights, and he looks like he’s having the time of his life. 

 

A third of the way down his shirt, Sam takes over the buttons. Gabriel raises his hands and steps back, giving the show to Sam. 

 

Sam moves his hips a little more, circling them a bit. The song is half over. If he can survive this one song it’ll be over. That’s all. One song. 

 

He gets the shirt unbuttoned and pulls it open, revealing a black t-shirt underneath. He wipes the sweat from his forehead on the flannel and tosses it out into the crowd. What he’s going to do for clothes when this is over is beyond him, but whatever. He’s in it now. 

 

He’s starting to make out faces around the stage. People are pressed up against it, looking at him. They’re all smiling, yelling, some are holding up money. He shakes his head. Unbelievable. 

 

Before he knows what’s happening Gabriel has undone his belt and whipped it off. His mouth hangs open as he watches it fly into the crowd, and then he looks at the angel. 

 

Gabriel has the nerve to wink at him, and then he suddenly reaches out and yanks Sam’s pants down to his ankles. 

 

The crowd goes _ insane. _

 

Sam’s covers his crotch with his hands. He’s wearing boxer briefs, but still. This escalated way faster than he anticipated, and there’s just one golden-haired archangel to blame for that. 

 

“Damn you,” Sam yells at Gabriel. 

 

Gabriel turns to the crowd, crosses his legs at the ankle, and takes a bow. They scream like crazy. Of course. 

 

“Don’t encourage him!” Sam yells. The crowd laughs. 

 

The song is winding down now. Sam’s almost made it. He’s so close. 

 

Sam starts dancing again, if you can call it that. He doesn’t dance much, not even when he’s alone. Not that he  _ can’t  _ dance. He just… Well, he’s not sure why he doesn’t do it more often, now that he thinks about it. And why is he thinking about it now exactly? Probably to block out what’s happening. 

 

He teases his shirt up, showing his abs, and sees a guy in the front row fake a fainting spell. 

 

That makes Sam smile a real smile. 

 

Gabriel is strolling the stage, collecting money. Sam shuffles, not wanting to release his pants from his feet, and then it’s over. The song is over. 

 

Sam drops his shoulders, head falling back in relief. “Thank God,” he says. 

 

“Bartender, next song please!” 

 

Sam looks at Gabriel with daggers in his eyes. 

 

“Oh, come on! You really think you were getting out of this with any clothes on?” 

 

Right. Of course not. Sam was stupid to think otherwise. He shakes his head. 

 

_ “Hey, yeah, I wanna shoop, baby.” _

 

Sam throws his arms up at the bartender. Really? More Salt-N-Pepa? What year is it, 1995?

 

The talking starts. 

 

_ “Oooh, how you doin’, baby? _

_ No, not you, _

_ You, the bow-legged one, yeah--” _

 

Gabriel steps to the front of the stage, sliding a finger across his neck to cut the music. It stops instantly. 

 

“New song. I think they wrote that one for his brother.”

 

“Shut up you asshole!” Dean yells from somewhere in the back. 

 

Sam knows the next song instantly. So does the entire bar. If there’s one cliche stripping song in the world, this is it. The place erupts in chaos. 

 

Gabriel points at the bartender and nods his approval. The angel turns on his heel to face Sam. He crosses his arms, waiting for Sam to proceed.

 

At least this song is a little slower, not much, but Sam can feel it a little more. He caves, finally toeing his boots off and kicking his pants aside. He fans himself, he’s still sweating like crazy, and as he flips the front of his shirt to let in air he sees money fly on stage. 

 

This is the most insane thing that’s ever happened to him. Well, maybe not. There’s that whole apocalypse thing. But this is up there, he has to admit. 

 

He bends his knees a little, rubbing his hands down his thighs, tugging his boxer briefs barely lower. The lyrics are well under way now. He’s getting this over with on this song for sure, but he wants to time it right. He doesn’t want to be naked up here for more than a second. 

 

When the chorus kicks up he runs his hands up under the front of his shirt. 

 

_ “If you’re horny, let’s do it _

_ Ride it, my pony, _

_ My saddle’s, waiting, _

_ Come and, jump on it,”  _

 

When Sam reaches his collar he slowly rips, making it take what seems like minutes until the shirt is ripped in two. He yanks it off, making a show of tightening his abs, flexing his arms. He hears someone scream, “Oh my God!” 

 

He laughs to himself, turning in a circle, arms up in the air. If they want to see he’s going to show them. 

 

Gabriel watches in absolute awe. The look on his face can’t be faked. It’s like with each article of clothing Sam loses another inhibition, like he unlocks another level of confidence. Sam isn’t shy, not really, but he’s also not… Well. This. 

 

Sam slips a sock off, tosses it away. He teases the waist of his boxers, dipping them down, showing a dusting of hair. When the screams get louder he shakes his head, wags his finger no. 

 

The other sock is next. 

 

Then Sam focuses on Gabriel. He beckons the angel to him on the stage with a finger. 

 

Gabriel makes a show of looking around, pointing at himself. “Me?” He mouths the word. 

 

Sam crosses the stage, pulling Gabriel to the center. He pulls the angel’s green jacket off and tosses it aside. 

 

Gabriels shakes his head, “I’m not the one stripping!” He has to practically scream, the crowd is so loud now. 

 

“Need more movement!” Sam tries to reply. 

 

Gabriel has no idea what that means, until Sam reaches down and grabs him by the ass, yanking him up. 

 

Gabriel’s arms brace on Sam’s shoulders, his legs wrapping behind Sam and locking. 

 

Sam bounces, and if they weren’t fully dressed Gabriel knows it would absolutely look like they were fucking. 

 

The place is at a roar. It sounds like ten thousand people are out there. 

 

Sam squats, how he manages it with Gabriel’s weight he’s not sure. It’s probably some adrenaline thing, like lifting cars off of people or something. 

 

Somehow Gabriel seems to follow him, and as Sam deepens the squat, butt hitting the floor, Gabriel sets his feet down. 

 

Sam holds the angel’s waist, not letting him stand. Gabriel nods his understanding and Sam releases him. 

 

Sam moves into a crab position under Gabriel, simulating thrusting up into the angel. He can’t tell if the crowd gets louder or not. He’s pretty sure they do. 

 

The song is almost over. 

 

“Floor!” Sam says in Gabriel’s face. 

 

The angel shifts, then hits his back on the stage. 

 

Sam flips himself on top, rolling his hips, trying to think of every damn move he saw in Magic Mike. He shoves his face in Gabriel’s neck, slides down the angel’s body to bite at the half hard cock in the angel’s pants. 

 

When he reaches Gabriel’s face again he smirks down at him. The angel is enjoying this more than he’s letting on. Sam grinds down, they’re basically frotting with clothes on for an audience. He’s not going to be able to hide the fact that’s he’s getting excited too. Not much longer anyway. 

 

He stands, reaching down to pull Gabriel up, and as the song ends Sam turns and shoves the boxer briefs fully down his legs. He kicks them high into the crowd, watching them get lost somewhere beyond the lights. 

 

People are pounding on the stage now, money is everywhere, ones, tens, twenties. Sam bows and turns, grabbing Gabriel by the shoulder and leading him backstage. There’s no way he’s going out in that crowd naked. 

 

“Look at his ass!” He hears. 

 

When he hits stage right he bends over, catching his breath. He hadn’t realized he was breathing so hard, not until he stepped out of the lights. 

 

He hears clapping. Gabriel is clapping. 

 

Sam straightens, looking at the cocky angel. “Shouldn’t you be running?” 

 

Gabriel’s eyes move pointedly to Sam’s waist. “With as hard as that thing is? I think I’d much rather let you catch me.” 

 

Music starts back up. 

 

Sam stalks toward Gabriel, one hand landing just below the angel’s throat. He backs Gabriel into the wall forcefully. He grabs his jaw, watching anger flash in those strange golden eyes. 

 

“This what you want?” Sam says in Gabriel’s ear. “You want it rough? You want me to make it hurt?” 

 

Gabriel wrenches his face away, defiant. “What if I do?” 

 

Sam rips at Gabriel’s clothes. He’s got his pants down in no time, hand hard around the angel’s cock. 

 

“You’ve had no prep and we’ve got no lube,” Sam bites out, “what do you expect me to do here?”

 

Gabriel’s face draws into pain at the pressure on his dick. “Told you before, I don’t need prep. You’re not gonna hurt me.” He snaps his fingers, and hands Sam a bottle of lube. 

 

Sam could come like this, he’s so worked up, from the dance, the way the audience reacted to it, the alcohol still buzzing in his veins, and from the fact that anyone could walk in and catch them like this. Gabriel doesn’t even have to do anything, just looking at him, riding the adrenaline, that would do it.  He doesn’t want that though. 

 

He spills lube on his hand and slicks his cock, the head weeping precome onto the floor. He roughly shoves a hand between Gabriel's legs, sliding a finger into him. The angel grunts in his ear and Sam loses all composure. 

 

Sam lifts Gabriel again, shoving him up the wall so he’s suspended between Sam’s weight and the concrete. He pushes into him, his cock barely fitting past the rim it’s so tight. Sam would go slow if he could even think right now, but he can’t. He just fucking can’t. 

 

Gabriel winces at the intrusion, hissing. He yanks Sam’s hair and smiles when Sam snaps his hips in so hard he bottoms out. “Yes, make me feel it,” Gabriel says through gritted teeth. 

 

And Sam does. After a few sharp thrusts he hooks his arms under Gabriel’s knees, pulling them up. With a small step away from the wall he can bounce Gabriel’s weight on his cock, and it pulls the angel higher, so they’re face to face. 

 

Gabriel kisses Sam, bites the hunters lip so hard it bleeds. 

 

“Fuck,” Sam bites out, “fuck you feel amazing.” 

 

“Good,” Gabriel answer, leaning his head back. “Shut up and fuck me.” 

 

Sam snaps his hips in a punishing rhythm, watches as Gabriel grabs his own cock. The angel jerks it roughly, almost painfully it would seem. 

 

“You gonna come?” Sam asks. He needs to know because he’s getting close. He won’t make it another five minutes. 

 

“You want me to come on your cock?” Gabriel asks, head rolling up lazily to look at Sam. 

 

“Yeah, wanna feel you come on it. Squeeze it.” Sam kisses the angel again. He can’t concentrate on it though, not when his dick is buried in all that slick, tight heat. His balls are tightening. 

 

“Come in me, Sam,” Gabriel whines, “fill me up.” Gabriel’s body spasms in Sam’s arms, clenching around Sam so tight it almost hurts. “I’m coming,” the angel’s voice is hoarse, wrecked, and he jerks his hand a couple more times. 

 

Come spurts between them like a fountain. It lands in their hair, on their chests, Sam gets some on his forehead. He doesn’t care. He can’t care, because Gabriel is squeezing his ass so hard Sam can barely move inside it. 

 

“Fucking Jesus,” Sam breathes, and then his cock is dumping into the angel. 

 

“Yes, Sam, fuck, fill me up,” Gabriel whispers, his body already starting to go limp in Sam’s arms. 

 

Sam comes so hard he almost doubles over, luckily the wall is close enough to lean their weight into. The spasms hit his gut so hard that it throbs and pulses, waves of pleasure so close to pain he’s not sure exactly what it’s feeling. 

 

He manages to stay on his feet, barely. And when the convulsions in his gut finally stop he takes a minute just to breath. 

 

“You okay?” he asks Gabriel. 

 

“Mmm,” is all the answer he gets. The angel looks like he’s comatose. 

 

“C’you stand?” Sam feels half drunk all of a sudden. 

 

“I don’t wanna,” is Gabriel’s reply. 

 

Sam can’t help it, the angel is going to have to. He slowly lowers him to his feet. Sam makes sure Gabriel is balanced, and then he turns his back to the wall and sinks to the floor. 

 

He doesn’t really want to sit naked on the nasty backstage floor of a bar, but he’s got no choice. His muscles are done, he feels like he just fought 20 vamps and won. And now he’s crashing. 

 

A loud thud makes Sam look up, and then Dean and Cas bust through a back door which must go to an alley. 

 

“God--” he shields his eyes, “what the fuck?!” 

 

Sam would laugh if he had the energy.

 

“What the fuck is right,” Gabriel manages, “it was quite a what the fuck, actually.” 

 

Of course Gabriel can talk right now. Sam rolls his eyes. As if Gabriel could ever be quiet. 

 

“Can you just shut your goddamn mouth and get dressed? Sam’s groupies are liable to find you any minute!”

 

Sam blinks. “Groupies?”

 

“Really, Sam? That’s what you care about right now?” Dean looks beyond done. “Clothes.  _ NOW _ .” 

 

Sam looks around dumbly. He doesn’t have clothes. His were thrown to the crowd. Or the groupies, as Dean called them. 

 

Gabriel snaps his fingers and Sam is dressed. 

 

Sam laughs. He’s practically giddy. How could he have forgotten that Gabriel can snap up clothes? He blinks, trying to clear his head. He feels almost high. 

 

“Are you always this stupid after you have sex?” Dean asks, helping him up. 

 

Cas gets Gabriel under the arm and helps him to the door. 

 

“No, must’a been the adrenaline or something,” Sam manages to answer. 

 

“Yes,” Cas says, “it would be like the time we hunted the shapeshifter, Dean. It took my vessel’s form and was having sex with a woman when you walked in. Once you killed it we--”

 

“NO,” Dean yells, “Not appropriate right now, Cas.” 

 

They manage to get Sam and Gabriel into the car and haul ass out of the alley. 

 

“What did you mean by groupies?” Sam asks again. 

 

“Really? You really stuck on that?” Dean is absolutely seething with anger, driving like a maniac. 

 

Sam doesn’t answer. 

 

“After that little show you two put on the crowd wanted an encore. So while you two were having a quickie back stage, the bartender was trying to calm them down. When he started the music the place went ape shit thinking you were coming back out. When you didn’t they started tearing shit up.” 

 

Dean cuts a corner, looking in the rearview mirror. He calms down when he knows they aren’t being followed. 

 

“You really think they’d follow us?” Sam knows Dean, knows his driving, his mannerisms. He knows Dean is trying to make sure they’re in the clear. 

 

“No, probably not. But the cops will be in that place soon and I don’t want them after us. I doubt that strip tease was totally legal, nevermind public indecency in the back room.” 

 

Sam hadn’t thought of that. He lowers himself down in the seat, feeling Gabriel tug on the back of his hair. He reaches back, running his hand over the angel’s, trying to make sure he’s okay without words. 

 

“What the hell brought all that on anyway?” Dean asks. 

 

“It was just a bet,” Sam explains, “I guess it got a little out of hand.”

 

“You think?” Dean looks in the mirror between the angels in the back seat. “What were you betting about anyway?”

 

“Whether or not you knew it was a gay bar,” Gabriel says matter of factly. 

 

Dean snorts out a laugh. “Seriously? You didn’t think I knew?” 

 

“You didn’t know, Dean. You came up and whispered to me, remember?”

 

Dean is laughing hard now, bent over the steering wheel. He can’t catch his breath and his face is red, slapping the dash. 

 

“You hear that, Cas?” He finally manages to wheeze out. 

 

“I heard, Dean.” 

 

Sam looks between the two. “What’s going on?” 

 

“It was a joke, Sammy,” Dean wipes tears from his eyes. 

 

“What are you talking about? What joke?” 

 

“I knew it was a gay bar, of course I knew! The Toolbox, you think I wouldn’t catch that? The whole shocked thing was to set up a little bet between Cas and I. See, I slipped the bartender a twenty and told him to ask you and Gabe for a threesome. I bet that Gabe would be all over it and you’d be mad, Cas bet the opposite.” 

 

“What?!” Sam looks disgusted. “Why the hell? What kind of bet is that?” 

 

Dean shakes his head. “Don’t be dumb.”

 

Sam squints. 

 

“The kind that would make you two fight. Doesn’t matter who wins, really. At least Cas and I don’t have to listen to you two fuck for one night. Two if we’re lucky.”

 

“You,” Sam looks back at Cas, “you guys can hear us?”

 

“Motel walls are thin, Sam,” Cas says simply. 

 

“Doesn’t matter anyway. Neither of us won,” Dean goes on. “You were stripping before the bartender could proposition you two. I took my twenty bucks back and everything.” 

 

Sam shakes his head, looking out the side window. What the actual hell just happened between them all. He can’t even work it all out in his head…

 

He turns slowly, looking at the archangel behind him. If Dean knew, if he really knew the entire time that it was a gay bar, that means that Sam didn’t lose that bet. He got on stage and stripped all because of a miscommunication. 

 

Gabriel knows it too. He raises his eyebrows at Sam, a fake smile on his mouth. He half shrugs, as if to say it’s not his fault. 

 

“Dean, turn the car around.” 

 

“What? No way!” 

 

“Dean,” Sam warns, “turn the car around.” He enunciates every syllable, never looking away from the archangel. 

 

“Why the hell would I do that?”

 

“Because Gabriel owes me a dance.” 


End file.
